Hello out there 😊

I am a really big fan of LOTR and always wanted to write a Fic about it.

As there are only so much Éomer/Lothíriel stories out there I decided to write about them. The Rohirrim are probably my favorite people in middle earth and they are also a little bit a mystery to me, because we do not know so much about their customs, traditions etc. There is pretty much left for imagination and interpretation.

Soooo I hope you like this first chapter, there are many more to come for sure.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Tolkien universe.

Prologue

"Is that all?" Éomer asked his council.

He hoped the meeting was finished for today because his head was starting to ache. Well, in the few weeks since the war had ended there always seemed to be a low throbbing pain but sometimes it worsened.

Éomer lifted his eyes from the map before him which displayed the Mark and looked at his council members. Some people would probably call the council members the most trusted advisors of a king. And part of that is true. The five men sitting with him in the stuffy room did give him advice.

The problem was that some of the advice they give him sucked and was uncalled for.

And on days when his head was already throbbing, they always seemed to have most uncalled for advice ever.

The only person he really trusted in this room was Gamling because this man has in fact been one of his uncle's truly most trusted advisors. When growing up in the royal household, Gamling had always been kind to Éomer and he learned much from him. Also, his advice was mostly good.

It's not that he didn't trust the other men but he simply didn't know them well enough.

The men shared an uneasy look before one of them, it was Baldred, a well-known old merchant in Edoras, opened his mouth.

Éomer groaned inwardly as he caught on the look.

"My king, I-we wanted to remind you how great of an importance it is…", Baldred swallowed audibly as he saw Éomer narrowing his eyes at him, daring him to speak any further.

"…to find a suitable wife and queen for you and your people."

And there it was. Sucky advice.

Taking a deep breath, Éomer tried to stay calm. This was not the first time they spoke to him about this matter. Every time he had shut them down before and he would do so now as well.

"I already told you this more than once. Finding a wife is not the most pressing matter! I will do so when the time is right." Éomer told them, his voice a harsh rumble.

"Éomer King, we understand that the coronation only took place a few weeks ago, but still, Rohan is in dire need of a queen. It would only strengthen your leadership. Even more important is the result of a marriage: an heir. At the moment there is no successor to your line." Guthláf was the one brave enough to speak up.

Éomer glowered at him. The pain in his head even more prominent now.

Baldred leaned forward and softened his voice.

"Look, we know you work very to rebuild the Mark and to lead it to the old strength. But now it is time. There certainly isn't a shortage of offers. And with you travelling to the White City the day after tomorrow, you could at least try to find a suitable match and strengthen our allies with Gondor."

Guthláf scoffed, making his distaste of the Gondorians clear, to everyone who didn't already know.

"Why look in Gondor? Wouldn't it be better to wed a shieldmaiden of the Mark? You need a strong queen!"

"Oh, come on, Guthláf. You need to get over your grudge you hold against the Gondorians."

Éomer sat back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose, as his council started arguing. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? He knew that in some time he should be looking for a wife. But where should he even start? For what traits should he look? Could he even burden an innocent woman with his troubles?

"If Éomer King is to find a match in Gondor, this wouldn't only be strengthening our alliance in case of a war. New trading partners could be found. While we fought the battles in Gondor our remaining people have done its best to rebuild their villages and homes. We have to finish these repairs before winter, but I fear that the resources a dwindling too fast. Grain cannot be sowed and harvested in big quantities for at least two or three years. The land, the fields, they still need some time to recover. New allies will give us an advantage if there's a harsh winter." Gamling, forever the voice of reason, said.

Guthláfs face turned red and his hands curled into fists.

"Rohan has done fine without Gondor for several years!" Guthláf spit out and rose from his seat. His finger pointed accusingly at Gamling.

"Those bastards-", he started to say but was cut off.

"ENOUGH!"

Éomer had jumped up from his seat and curled his hands around the edges of the table, so he could not throttle Guthláf.

"Gondor and their king is our most important ally and I will not let you disrespect them. If it was not for King Elessar, we would not sit here. The mark would have been completely destroyed from Saruman and his evil foes. Children, women and men, everyone would have been slaughtered." He growled and glared at Guthláf.

"If it was not for King Elessar, there would be nothing but ashes left of Rohan."

Guthláf raised his chin and stared at his king defiantly for a few more seconds before he finally lowered his gaze to the table.

"As for the other matter, it will be my decision and my decision alone whom I am going to wed and when." Éomer pressed and shot each of his council member a hard look.

After receiving more or less reluctant nods from his men, he dismissed them with a wave of his right hand.

"You can go now."

Éomer fell back in his chair and suppressed a sigh or a groan. Probably both. Ignoring the scraping of the chairs across the stone floor and the sound of steps, he fixated the sigil ring on his right ring finger. It was a massive gold band engraved with two rearing horses. Their eyes were green gemstones. They sparkled whenever light fell upon them.

Every time he looked at this heirloom from his late uncle and King, Théoden, it felt wrong on his fingers. Éomer did not really feel worthy to be wearing it, for he never wanted to be king. He still remembered when he found his cousin Théodred at the Fords of Isen. At first, hope had bloomed in his chest when he found the heir to the throne breathing. But this hope had shattered quickly when he saw the horrible wounds on Théodreds abdomen.

When Théodred died, he knew that he would probably be crowned King after Théoden. But it shouldn't have happened so fast. Théoden should have not died so soon, for he is not ready to rule.

The sound of a closing door and steps brought him back to the now.

Lifting his head, he saw Gamling taking a stand behind one of the chairs.

"Gamling, is there anything else?" Éomer tried to soften his tone, for this man did not deserve his ire.

"My lord, I hope that we have not upset you very much with our request." Gamling said.

Rolling his eyes Éomer busied himself with sorting his parchments on the table. Nobody told him how much paperwork a King must do. "First of all, call me Éomer and drop the "my lord" crap. You have known me since I was but a child and called me much worse names before. Second, by request you mean, you and the other council members bullying me into marrying someone?"

A snort escaped the older man. "Well, Éomer, I would not call it bullying."

"Then what is it? We have spoken about this before and my opinion has not changed since the last time." His response made Gamling sigh and drop his head briefly. "Why are you so stubborn regarding this matter? I know you are reluctant because you haven't been King all that long. But fact is, a good match would only bring benefits for you and the Mark."

Éomer stilled and raised his head to look at his advisor. "This has nothing to do with stubbornness. I simply do not have the time for a wife right now. What would I even look for in a future queen? I know there are several offers from Rohan and Gondor but I have not met any of those women. Shouldn't I at least know the woman I will wed? I am afraid I don't have much time left for courting."

Shaking his head, Éomer continued his rant.

"Even if I found the perfect match and could imagine a marriage to this woman. Would if be fair to burden her with the troubles of the realm? With my troubles? I barely know how to act as a king, how to be a good king."

He pushed his chair away from the massive oak table and stood up. Éomer took a couple of steps away from it till he reached the window. Outside, the sky was grey and looked dull. The weather seemed to mirror his feelings lately.

"Parts of Rohan, big parts of Rohan are in ruins, Gamling. The whole Westfold was nearly completely destroyed. And I am not an ignorant fool – I know that we cannot repair the damages by ourselves without any help. Forming an alliance through marriage with a noble house in Gondor would help us. But who in their right mind would want to wed of his daughter to a king who hasn't proven his worth as a king and whose kingdom is lying in shambles?"

Gamling sighed behind him and the king turned around to look at his friend. The older man was looking at him with an odd mix of understanding, frustration and sadness in his kind blue eyes.

"My dear friend, you may not have been king for long, but you are worthy of being in this position. Throughout your years as Third Marshall of the Mark you have never once led your Eored without anything but strength and confidence. Those men would have given your life for you and they will still do it."

Gamling stepped in front of him and put his hands on his broad shoulders.

"You are born to lead, Éomer. I know that you have never wanted the throne and surely not under these circumstances. But I am confident that you will bring the Riddermark back to its glory old days. And any father should be proud to let his daughter marry a man, a leader like you."

A smile played one Gamling's lips and he dropped his hands.

"Although I have to admit, you should probably stop acting like a surly bastard and smile a bit more often or else any maiden will take one look at you and run for the hills."

This brought a soft smile to the king's lips and he lowered his eyes and chuckled. But after a moment he looked into his friend's eyes again. This time as serious as before.

"I thank you for your kind words, Gamling. I am glad I have you here on my side."

Éomer squeezed his friend's shoulder before he moved to sit at the table again. Although he could do with a short break, he would continue to work for there was much to do and the times where he could easily swap in his time behind the desk to other less tiring tasks were over.

"I will always stay on your side with an open ear and hopefully good advice" Gamling said, standing tall and proud. "And I no more than ask you to at least consider my words when you arrive in the White City. The festivities will be swamped with noblemen and their daughters and I assure you that you will get countless offers."

Éomer sighed.

"You will not rest with this matter until I promise you to try to look interested in finding a bride, do you?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

This time it was Gamling whose chuckle filled the empty room. "Of course, it would be better if you actually are interested, but I will take everything I get."

"Well, then I promise to not scare away the highborn lords and their daughters. At least not before I hear them out. But if I don't like what I hear I might reconsider." Éomer said with mirth in his eyes.

"Good, I can live with that." With these words Gamling left the room and Éomer was alone.

Sighing the young king picked up the report they received today from Erkenbrand, Marshal of the West-Mark, who resides in Helms Deep. They were still not done assessing the whole damage and the repair only proceeded slowly. Too slowly, for nearly the whole Westfold laid in ruins and by the end of autumn the work should be done. Winters could be hard and cold in Rohan and Éomer will not see more of his people die. Too many lives were already lost.

Éomer thought of the words Gamling spoke to him before. An alliance with a noble house in Gondor was probably the best that could happen to them at this point. New trade agreements could be formed and Rohan would receive the resources they were in dire need of. Before the war the Riddermark was able to produce most of the things they needed for their people themselves and there was not much trading with Gondor done. As his late uncle stood under the influence of Saruman the link to Gondor was nearly completely severed. Gríma Wormtongue poisoned the late kings thoughts with his hatred against the Gondorians and now it was on Éomer to set up the trading routes again.

But marriage? In his carefree days as Third Marshal he was no stranger to the girls in Aldburg where he resided and he deemed himself experienced. But receiving pleasure with a comely lass and marrying one were two different things. He had never really thought of settling down before and surely not to engage in a marriage of convenience.

Éomer put the report aside and looked at the map of Rohan again. From the banks of the river Isen to the river Anduín, from Fangorn to Lothlorién: This has always been his home and will always be his home. And now he was in charge of it and he had to do right by his ancestors and make the Riddermark great again.

It dawned on him that he had to ignore his unease regarding marriage, because Rohan, his land, was more important right now than his doubts. And what his land needed now was a beneficial arrangement.

Béma above.